Being Bridget
by tanx
Summary: Bridget wakes up from her twenty-first feeling rather lousy and decides to change her life for the better. 'No, Bridget. Must not call Desperate and Dateless mystery dating service.' Then hunk-o-rama male equivalent of Bridget comes along...R


Disclaimer: I don't own Bridget Jones. I own the plot and probably anything else you don't recognise. That's all.  
  
Alchohol units: Mmm . . .let's not even bring it up  
  
Dates in the last decade: Not enough to count on a list  
  
Chocolate bars that claim to be fat free however this is just a marketing scam to get depressed twenty-somethings like self to eat bucket-loads of them: 41  
  
11:30 am  
  
Am Jones. Bridget Jones. Am recovering from half-hour visit to pay homage to the toilet bowl (all in lovely sacrifices of last night's festive meals mixed with this morning's overload on alcohol.)  
  
11: 45 am  
  
However, am now accomplished 21 year old. Reporter for Glam-Chic magazine . . .well, maybe just photocopy/coffee girl who fannies about with the press- releases. But someday hope to be like boss and amazing woman of idol status to self, Joan Lizbourne. Major ice-queen of the modern world, but somehow so . . .refined. With stiletto heels so high and sharp, could dice ex- boyfriend into little bite-size pieces . . .speaking of bite-size pieces, one more chocolate bar would do no harm.  
  
12:00 pm  
  
Okay. Number 23 on Bridget's list of things to do today - write letter to management of 'Cocoa-peanut-delight' bars, complaining about the addictive nature of the small, delicious bars like have nothing better to do.  
  
12:01 pm  
  
Actually, do have nothing better to do.  
  
Damn.  
  
12:15 pm  
  
Have resorted to making beaded-jewellery. Yes, beaded-jewellery may well be the way of the future for poor Bridget.  
  
24th on list - must stop referring to self in the third-person.  
  
1: 20 pm  
  
Have gathered pink and purple beads in a desperate attempt to look like am accomplished bead-maker of the 20th century to the hippie-like storeowners. Am feeling very new age and young. No, have not lost youth. Am still young, shagless blonde beauty. Now have new hobby. Mmm . . .beading is therapeutic.  
  
1:25 pm  
  
Oh God.  
  
Have forgotten actual wire on which to thread beads.  
  
2:00 pm  
  
After spending 35 minutes watching exercise infomercial, spread out on couch in manner of Greek-goddess eating grapes from the vine, have decided that must get into shape for the summer.  
  
2:05 pm  
  
Am now getting up from couch.  
  
2:10  
  
Oh screw it.  
  
In fact, screw life. Screw Godfrey Cunnings (tall, dark and handsome old flame . . .yes, old. Godfrey is 33. Shiver.) Screw any thought of removing self from patent-leather couch. Am going to stay exactly where am.  
  
2:15  
  
'DO you suffer from 'cough potato syndrome?' Need a match, fast? Just want a casual, summer fling? Don't lie there any longer. Call 1800 date-less and book your mystery date TODAY!'  
  
Must investigate spies from Infomercial research living in the flat next- door. Am sure have been bugged, stalked and hijacked. Disgraceful.  
  
2:16  
  
Intriguing. Mystery date by telephone . . .very intriguing.  
  
2:17  
  
No Bridget! Get hand away from telephone.  
  
Phone rings  
  
Oh good. Saved self from demeaning and embarrassing telephonedate. Note to self - thank whoever is calling.  
  
Pick up phone, Bridget.  
  
But first, write down number of date service.  
  
Mmm . . .no. Pick up phone first, then casually 'forget' number.  
  
Will do for now.  
  
'Hello?'  
  
'Oh hi Bridge! Jude here.'  
  
'Hello Jude. Listen. I'm having symptoms. Am actually considering calling mystery date service.'  
  
'Oh fucking hell, Bridget that doesn't matter right now. I've found you, me and Shazzer partners. Fucking partners, Bridge!'  
  
'Aha . . .and what language does mine speak? Is it Yiddish this time? Might make nice change from the last man you decided to set me up with.'  
  
'Fuck, Bridget, he wasn't that bad.'  
  
'Jude. His name was Guizo. He was a pool cleaner from the small part of Iraq. I am never going to trust you with a date for me again.'  
  
'Oh swallow your fucking pride, Bridget. This one's a keeper.'  
  
I hesitated.  
  
'Hmm . . .alright, but there's one very important precaution question I must ask you first.'  
  
'Mmm?'  
  
Does his name have a 'z' in it?'  
  
'His name is Lauren.'  
  
'Jude . . .Lauren is a girl's name.'  
  
'Not in this case. 'Lauren' happens to be the name of a very high-profile newspaper editor here in London on a very important business trip for an entire year.'  
  
'And which 'high-profile' newspaper would that be?'  
  
'New York Times.'  
  
Heart skipped a beat.  
  
'Jude. You are either a terrible, terrible liar or a genius. Which one is it?'  
  
'Genius. Fuck me, Bridget, Lauren's a fucking stallion. But mine is called Eduardo. He's foreign.'  
  
'Don't even mention foreign to me, Jude. Who's Shazzer's?'  
  
'Well I'm still working on snagging this one for her, Bridge. His name is Tony. He's a lawyer from London'  
  
'Jude! Shazzer DISPISES lawyers.'  
  
'Mmmm, oh fuck yes, but not THIS lawyer.'  
  
'And what's so different about Tony? Got three penises?'  
  
'No. I'm quite sure he has one. And what distinguishes this one is the mole on his head.'  
  
'Jude, have you gone completely mad?'  
  
I was worried about her.  
  
'It's a fucking fact. Men with moles are always sensitive, stallion types. Take Enrique Iglesias for example.'  
  
'Name another, then.'  
  
'Uhh . . .that doesn't matter. But I know this one's the right one for Shazzer, I just fucking know it.'  
  
'Well if you're sure. I still don't trust you, but . . .mmm . . .I thought of another example.'  
  
'Who?'  
  
'The man from the cheese add.'  
  
'Bridget. You watch too much fucking television. Now get off your arse and meet me at the Coffee-Club in fifteen. We have outfits to plan.'  
  
'But . . .'  
  
'Bridge . . .get off the fucking couch before I come over there and fucking make you.'  
  
'Alright I'm up. Later, Jude.'  
  
I put the phone down.  
  
Lauren . . .not bad. The girl's name was actually growing on me. God forbid.  
  
2:45 pm  
  
Must leave flat. Have very important meeting with Jude and Shazzer at the Coffee-Club to discuss future weddings.  
  
2: 50 pm  
  
Gaaaah. Just had thought. Is tradition that brides wear Ivory if they are not a virgin. Only virgin's may wear pure white.  
  
Will have to show up at wedding in pristine white gown.  
  
Actually, did I sleep with anyone last night?  
  
Mmm . . .no.  
  
Oh well. Will wear ivory anyway. White makes butt look big.  
  
* * * A/N: End of chapter one.  
  
Well I really enjoyed writing that. I love Bridget Jones, I think she's great. Review if you will, can always use extra guidance or flames if you wish. (Though you must know that I will point and laugh at them. I am now de- sensitised to flames.)  
  
Thanks heaps for reading this. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
  
Love,  
  
Tanx 


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